The lava-scorched terrain of Lanzarote is more than a backdrop; it’s a force that permeates every corner of life on this dramatic Canary Island. From molten-formed vineyards and cave restaurants to bold artists and ancient legends, the island’s volcanic legacy inspires a unique blend of creativity, resilience, and reverence for nature.
Where fire met land
The sun has barely cleared the Atlantic when I reach the rim of Caldera Blanca. The caldera’s massive bowl, 1,500 feet above sea level, opens like a fossilized wound. In every direction, volcanic cones punctuate the land, as if the earth itself once convulsed in agony. And in fact, it did. Lanzarote’s defining event began in 1730, when a massive eruption burst from the island’s crust and raged for over 2,000 days. It reshaped the land, erased entire villages and left nearly a quarter of the island swathed in lava.
From that devastation rose a landscape both haunting and hypnotic: rough-edged lava fields, cracked calderas, and red-hued slopes that mimic a Martian dreamscape. Local priest Andrés Lorenzo Curbelo documented the eruption in vivid prose, describing the volcanoes as “gigantic mountains blooming like thunder.” Three centuries later, these once-dreaded peaks are central to Lanzarote’s identity and its magic.
Living with the volcano
This stark terrain might seem forbidding, but to many Lanzaroteños, it is home, muse and livelihood. “The island has something magnetic about it,” says Rocío Romero, my guide and a Granada native who never left after her first visit. As we hike the collapsed El Cuervo volcano under a blazing, cloudless sky, she marvels at the black stone, silhouetted cacti, and eerie silence. “The land gets a hold of you,” she says simply.
Lanzarote is full of such paradoxes. Its resorts like Puerto del Carmen, welcome millions of tourists each year. Yet just minutes inland lie quiet hamlets, lava-hewn salt flats, and moonlike hillsides walked by few. It’s a place both ancient and avant-garde shaped by geological violence and human vision.
Chief among those visionaries was César Manrique, the island’s most celebrated son. Artist, architect, environmentalist — Manrique returned from cosmopolitan New York in the 1960s with an ambitious dream: to make Lanzarote a harmonious fusion of nature and art. “Art into nature, nature into art” became his guiding mantra, and under his influence, the island blossomed in unexpected ways.
A legacy written in stone
Manrique’s fingerprints are everywhere. He transformed lava tunnels into ethereal caves, designed sleek whitewashed buildings that still define the island’s aesthetic, and created El Mirador del Río, a cliff top viewpoint that frames the sea like a painting. At Jameos del Agua, one of his masterpieces, a collapsed lava tunnel now houses a lush garden, an underground lake filled with blind albino crabs, and a concert hall that seems to echo the heartbeat of the island itself.
He wasn’t alone in sensing the land’s creative power. In the serene hamlet of Teseguite, ceramicist Eguzkine Zerain sculpts raw, imperfect pottery inspired by the wind, rock, and silence. Not far away in San Bartolomé, painter Rufina Santana likens herself to a volcano. “The power you find inside the mountain — that’s my character,” she says, laughing, her canvases vivid with energy and color. Manrique once bought one of her works, cementing a connection between two generations of artists shaped by fire and ash.
Harvest from the ash
The lava doesn’t just inspire — it sustains. Lanzarote’s vineyards in La Geria are among the world’s most unusual. Vines are planted in funnel-shaped hollows in black volcanic ash, each protected from the wind by semicircular stone walls. “It draws moisture from the air and traps it,” explains Ana de León of Bodega Los Bermejos, letting gritty picón fall through her fingers.
These conditions give rise to Malvasía Volcánica, a grape that yields crisp, aromatic white wines. The taste is floral, fresh — yet with a flinty echo of the lava that nurtured it. Centuries ago, Shakespeare referenced Canarian wine in his plays. Today, only about 10 percent leave the island. “The rest?” Ana says with a grin. “Thirsty locals and visitors.”
Elsewhere, the volcanic bounty continues. Salt is still harvested from 19th-century flats on the east coast. Aloe vera thrives in the north’s arid fields. And in seaside towns like Punta Mujeres, café owners like Juan-Carlos Hernandez Betancor serve octopus and goat cheese beside natural pools enclosed by black rock. “This village is a kind of treasure,” he says, placing an espresso on my table as the Atlantic sparkles behind him.
Fire in the frame
Of course, it’s not all quiet corners and poetic solitude. Timanfaya National Park — home to Lanzarote’s largest cluster of volcanoes — draws crowds who marvel at its scorched, sulfur-streaked slopes. At El Diablo Restaurant, chicken is grilled using geothermal heat, while guides demonstrate geyser-like blasts by pouring water into steaming fissures.
But even here, amid the spectacle, the message remains clear: this is a land born of fire, and it demands both awe and care. Manrique’s lifelong crusade was to protect it from unchecked development. He envisioned a tourism model that valued Lanzarote’s soul, not just its sunshine. “The landscape,” he once said, “is like a great symphony that requires time to be understood.”
As the sun sets behind the dark peaks of Famara Beach, its molten reds mirrored in the surf, I begin to understand. Lanzarote is no ordinary island. It’s a living gallery, a volcanic sculpture, a place where destruction gave birth to inspiration. And for those who live here — or simply come to witness — the volcanoes are not scars, but signatures.
If you go
Getting there:
Lanzarote is served by direct flights from across the UK, including London, Edinburgh, Manchester, and Birmingham. Average flight time is 4 hours 15 minutes.
Getting around:
Renting a car is the best way to explore Lanzarote’s less-touristy interior. Buses connect main towns, but service can be limited in rural areas.
When to visit:
Lanzarote enjoys mild weather year-round, with summer highs often reaching 30°C. Spring and autumn offer ideal temperatures and fewer crowds.
Where to stay:
Hotel Fariones in Puerto del Carmen offers beachfront comfort from €315 per night (B&B).
The Sun Collective hosts art retreats in the island’s heart from €795 for four days.
KE Adventure runs an 8-night self-guided walking holiday from £585 (excluding flights), including car hire and B&B.
